Silver Horzon
by Aegis Fell
Summary: Original story. I may or may not take OC's. Depends. I've got up to chapter 6 done, and will post them depending on the feedback I receive. I honestly hope you enjoy it, if you don't... Well, oh well then.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One - "Behold A Pale Horse,"

There's an old saying that I used to hope was true; "When it rains, it pours." In a metaphorical sense, where I'm from, that's a very true statement. In a literal sense, it's laughable.

Atlantia is a dry land. Dry, hot, and wild. I've lived here my whole life, lived a life dependent on the few oasis scattered through the massive, rocky desert I know as my home. It is said that our home was once a huge oasis. I believe that about as much as I believe that my grandma is a human. In other words, it's complete hogwash. My name is Syl. Syl Wandergaze. I'm fourteen years old, and am an independent mercenary.

My story is not a pleasant one. And something I am not going to share willingly. So get used to being left in the dark. The nights are long here, and there are many shadows for monsters to hide in. Earth is not the same as it once was, so I have a suggestion. Take everything you think you know of what was once your world. Now forget it.

JUNE 16th YEAR AC32 7:32 AM

I walk along the narrow trail cautiously. This is a dangerous world to be alone in. And I am very much alone. My white hair is blindingly bright in the stark sunlight, burning all too much like a beacon. Being a boy with a small frame, my large coat hangs off me as though I were just a clothing rack. My boots, ragged and supplemented with occassional, haphazard plates of rusted steel, clunk endlessly on. My jeans are dirty and ragged, a holster hanging around them. The holster, however, is empty.(Don't tell anyone.) My extremely light, pink eyes peek out from behind a dust covered, blue burlap scarf. One of my arms is loosely bandaged, blood from months prior still staining the straps of cloth.

No one for miles around. Just walking. Just moving.

As usual.

Except it wasn't a typical day. Clouds of dust billow far in the distance, betraying the presence of a large group of vehicles. I narrow my eyes, not to block the sunlight, but the dust that's ever present in the air. I spot the glint of metal in the burning sun. Ah! I was right. The vehicles are headed in the same direction as I am, towards a town known as Breaker. This can only mean one thing. Raiders. I increase my pace, knowing I won't make it in time to stop them, but I can help in the aftermath. If there's anyone left. Hopefully, I can get there fast enough to help someone out of a pinch. I'm starting to run low on favors, after all.

JUNE 16th YEAR AC32 4:23 PM

The town of Breaker is centered around a small, half acre oasis fed by a spring. Consisting of a general store, a tavern, and a weapon smith, the Main Street is quite an economic giant. The rest of the oasis is surrounded by farms and small scrap metal homes. Being one of the few places with water, many human survivors gather here. I got more than one unpleasant glare on my way in, being mostly Raiga, it's understandable why they'd feel a little angry towards me. After all, we did wreck their world.

I head straight for the tavern, trying to seem as tall as I can. Unfortunately for me, my kind are not known for their stature. "Guess I made it here before them." I mutter to myself as I walk to the bar and hop up onto a seat. I'll get this straight now, I'm NOT A MIDGET. I'm five foot four, short for my age, yes, but still. Not a midget. So when someone-

"Oi, short stuff. Move over, kid!" A hefty man says as he walks in, "That's MY seat." He says smugly, moving a dusty coat to the side so I can see his pistol, a piece of scrap fitted with a handle and trigger. The thing probably has only one shot. Only a human would use a piece of shit like that.

"Make me." I say, not even bothering to turn and look. He looks surprised, "Why you little-"

"It's not loaded." I say simply, "Even a fool could see that." In all honesty, I have no clue whether it is or isn't. Call it a bet on human nature.

The man looks stunned, and moodily stalks his way to a different seat. The bartender approaches, wiping a glass idly, "What can I get you?" He asks.

"Information. I heard there were a few good jobs here."

"What kind of jobs are you looking for?"

"Easy ones, but if you are thinking in a more literal sense, mercenary work."

"Stop pulling my chain kid. I don't have time for pranks."

I sigh, pulling out a small coin, stamped with a cross and crossed blades. The seal of a mercenary.

"I... See." The bartender says, "I'll get the job posters." He says immediately. He walks off as I put the coin away. A few moments later, he returns with three pieces of parchment. Each bears a sketch and a short description of the job. I take a quick look at the first poster, and decide immediately. It reads,

"Lost Item.

I've misplaced a precious family heirloom within a nearby volcanic shaft mine. It's a small metal pendant, with a transits cent blue strip down one side. It's on a thin wire. Anyone who brings it back to me will be rewarded with either 1,000 Cogs, or a single weapon from my armory." Having no weapon currently, it's an obvious choice. "I'll be taking this." I state to the bar tender. He nods quickly, "Very good..." He mumbles. It always amazes me how fearful common folk are of mercenaries. As though we were some kind of monster from ancient lore. It's a feeling I've always enjoyed. Well. Time to go.

I stand and walk out, folding the poster carefully and slipping it into my pocket. A grin on my lips, I follow the map drawn on the back of the poster. The volcanic shaft isn't far away, just over a mile outside of town. I can make it there and back before the day is out.

June 16th AC32 5:13 PM

Volcanic vents are nasty places. Like the ruins of some ancient culture, they stand at odd angles, often cracked and damaged. Smoke endlessly pours from them in clouds of inky death. Walking in there kills any man not wearing protection. Man. More accurately, any human. So I'm good. However, I don't like the taste of volcanic ash, so I pull my scarf up as I near the blackened pillar. It's mouth pitifully wheezes smoke out, meaning someone dug ventilation shafts down below. Good for visibility.

I walk slowly towards the huge shaft, listening to the deep, whispered roar of the escaping fumes. As well as the rumble of engines far below the surface. So someone's working down there. I'll have to go carefully. Miners don't take too kindly to their quarries being encroached upon. In fact, it's common knowledge that they often shoot anyone unlucky enough to stumble into their territory.

So I'll just have to NOT get caught. And if I do... Well I'll just have to make sure I don't. Who needs a plan, anyway? So I clamber up, slipping into the mouth of the vent, and slowly lowering myself in. The smell of sulfur fills my nostrils as my feet touch a flat surface. A catwalk. I crouch down, walking slowly in the darkness, rolling my feet to eliminate the sound of my steps. A voice echoes above the growing roar of an engine, a drill, I assume. "-ew vein! We'll be cashin' in tonight, boys!" I roll my eyes. Metal prices are dropping dramatically all across Atlantia. Even if they start tonight, by the time they have the vein mined out, the prices would have dropped dramatically. Idiots. I shake my head.

I've got to focus, I've got a job to do. I've gotta find this asshole's "heirloom". What a pain in the ass.

I scrounge around in the dark for a few minutes before I finally find it. Or rather, see it. I'm crouched at the very edge of light around the main mining area, and across the lit area is a table, and on the table is the only thing I've ever seen that matches the description posted. Too bad there are four busy, armed men in my way. Each of them are wearing a thick, dark lensed gas mask, because, as I noted earlier, the volcanic gasses in the air are very harmful to humans. One of them in staring intently at the vein a huge, makeshift machine is mining. The others are just kind of standing around, probably bored out of their heads. So I pick up a rock, and lob it straight past one of their heads. None of them even notice... Shoulda just smacked him. That would have gotten his attention. Unfortunately, these are obviously not very bright people here. He walks closer to the drill, practically glowing with the excitement of their find. So I throw a rock at the drill itself. It strikes a quickly moving gear, and with a grinding shriek, it's progress halts. The miners panic, shouting practically unintelligibly, they huddle around the drill, inspecting it's parts and the drill head itself. So I quickly move across the clearing snatching the card of metal, and then sprinting back. "Wha-?" One asks as he turns around, hearing my steps. By the time he turns and looks at where I had been, I was halfway to the surface. Easy job, no questions asks.

June 16th, AC32, 6:56 PM.

It's always a beautiful sight, destruction. Death, though terrible, can be beautiful. So I enjoyed a long admiring look at the view I had of Breaker burning to the ground from miles away. Death is a beautiful thing.

However, pain is a brutal, ugly creature. So I got a good view of both things as I entered Breaker. People were left bleeding out, dying on the side of the road, moaning the names of their loved ones. It is a scene I am all to familiar with. The raiders had come, and now the raiders had gone, taking what little this town had to offer. So much for getting a favor from this place. Or maybe...

The tavern, crunched like a tin can, is not what catches my eye. Instead, it's what's curled in front of it. A girl. Her long blonde hair blocks her face, and miraculously, she seems to simply be unconscious, spared from the horrors around her. "Help..." A voice moans from beneath the crushed tavern. So I walk over to that crushed can, pick up the girl, and walk. Always walking, it seems. Always continuing to move. Oh well. Least I got something out of it this time.

"W-wait..." That same voice gasps, "Where... Are you going?" It asks from beneath the rubble. "This place is gone. I have no reason to stay." I respond, "So unless you can offer me something to convince me to stay and help, I'll be taking my leave." "Why? Why can't you help us...?" The voice asks, a childish confusion creeping into it's voice. "Not can't. Won't." I answer, glaring down at the rubble covering whoever is moaning and whining. "Get over it." I say, "You're dead. For now, you're clinging to life, but me dragging you out from there will break even more of your bones, making your what's left of your life even more painful and brief." Without waiting for a response, I walk off, throwing the girl over my shoulder. It's getting late, I'll need to find shelter for myself and the girl.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - "In Search of Haven"

June 17th, AC32, 1:05 AM

The girl stirs restlessly, causing the wood beneath us to creak. Thanks to the tiny detail of her breathing, which roars in my ears like a massive storm. It's messing with my sleep. Whether or not this will work out profitably is in the air at this point, but I think it will. My gambles are always with the odds.

The shack we're in shudders as the wind outside picks up. This little shanty is a few miles outside Breaker, and is practically a pile of rubble. Luckily, one room is in tact, the one we're in now. Moonlight leaks in from the cracks in the ceiling, lighting onto the girl's face, her eyes twitch, then slowly open.

"You're awake." I state, simply to break the ice.

"W... What?" I don't even dignify that with an answer.

"Where am I...?" She asks, slowly trying to get up. She squints, "What happened?"

"You tell me." I respond, moving my gaze from her to the outside. "You were the one in Breaker. Not me."

"Breaker...?" Her eyes light with memory, and she falls back against one of the cracked walls.

"Raiders...!" She gasps.

"I figured as much. They've been growing in numbers lately." I say, nodding slowly.

"Where are we?" She asks again, confidence growing within her voice.

"About 8 miles outside Breaker. I carried you out." She looks stunned,

"But you're just a kid..."

"Wrong." I say quickly. I take out the same coin I had showed to the barkeep. "I'm a mercenary."

"Bull." She says, crossing her arms.

I don't let the surprise I feel at her disbelief register on my face,

"Well. I can't force you to believe me. Well, in any case, my name is Syl Wandergaze." I state. She narrows her eyes, then offers her hand.

"I'm Ni." She says. "Ni Anderson." I take her hand, firmly shaking it. She withdraws, bringing her knees up to her chest, and hugging her arms around them. "So... Was I...?"

"The only survivor?" I finish for her. "No. Probably not." I answer honestly, "You were just the one with the best chance."

She gives me a curious glance, "Best chance?"

"You weren't injured badly, nor did you seem to be sickly or too young. You have the best chance of surviving. I'm simply bettering your odds at surviving."

"But... If I wasn't injured, why couldn't I just stay in Breaker?" She asks,

"Because where there's death, destruction, in the aftermath, there will always be vultures. Right now, I'd bet you that another wave of "degenerates" is washing through Breaker, taking anything, and anyONE of value." I nod to her, making lasting glances at certain areas of her body, so as to make my point. She suddenly looks sick, her eyes widening and face paling. I let silence fall so she can think on that.

"So... You're..."

"Half Raiga." I finish, making sure to pronounce the name of my people correctly. (RI-gah) For her information more than my own. She remains quiet for a long time,

"Am I going to be able to go back?" She mutters, straining to keep her tears at bay,

"Maybe. Though I doubt there will be anyone or anything to go back to." She buries her face in her legs,

"My family..." She chokes. I stand quietly, and take a step outside, leaning against the entryway once outside. No point in bothering her. She just needs to be alone, so she can cry without feeling embarrassed or weak.

I watch the dark horizon, wiping at the moisture gathering at my eyes. Now's no time to blur my sight. So I let myself daze as her sobs echo across the vast desert plains. A painfully familiar sound.

June 17th, AC32, 7:17AM

A foot taps my leg, shocking me up from my restless slumber. I grab the ankle attatched to the foot, pulling it forward, bringing my other arm up as I swivel onto my knees. With a squeal, Ni lands in front of me. Huffing, eyes wide, I drop the arm I'd raised.

"My bad..." I say, releasing her ankle. And then she does something I couldn't have expected. She laughs. A sweet, melodic sound, like water on a smooth stone, it captures me. For just that brief moment, she has my whole attention. Then I shake off my fixation and stand, offering Ni my hand,

"Thanks." She says, taking it and hoisting herself up. "You really surprised me there, Syl."

"And you me." Shaking my head, I sigh.

"So." I begin. "Are we headed back to Breaker, or should we just get started on heading towards the nearest colony, wherever that may be?"

"I'd like to see it." She says, gazing into the desert from where we'd come.

"Ok." I nod, and start walking forward, tracing my path back to Breaker. "Then let's go." Ni stand there for a moment, then follows behind me without a word. We don't say much on the way, just walk. I do, however, notice the scar framing the left side of her face. Her hair is obviously supposed to conceal it, as she wears it in a manner that almost covers her left eye completely. What caused it is anyone's guess, but that doesn't mean I can't make assumptions.

Scars, in these wilds, are worn as badges to show how well you've survived. One doesn't go long here without getting several unless one's been sheltered, so most people go out of their way to SHOW their scars(Especially women. It makes them less prone to certain... Targeting.) and yet Ni is going out of her way to HIDE hers. Curious? Because I am. I think I'll like this girl, Ni Anderson...

June 17th, AC32, 1:10 PM

Breaker is not as I had left it. It's worse. As I had thought, scavengers had come through and for the place apart even more than it had been. Blood colored the streets red, a pretty sight in the mid afternoon sun. But it smelled awful. The smell of decaying flesh has plagued me for a long time, yet I can never acclimate towards it. It's a terrifying smell, one that signifies the end of something.

Ni stands at the edge of the ex-town now-graveyard, tears welling up in her eyes,

"Who could... Who could do something so awful?" She stutters, barely managing to keep standing.

"Desperate people." I answer, staying by her side so that if she falls, I could at least try and catch her. (She's kinda heavy...) She turns slowly, placing her back to Breaker's remains. "Thank you..." She says quietly.

"For what?" I ask. "I just did what was most profitable to me. I'm tired of being bored." I lie, starting to walk forward. "If you're coming with me, then we should move. Smoke attracts bad things." She nods quietly, and follows.

"Syl..." She says,

"Yes?"

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Fourteen."

"No, seriously. Yo-"

"I am being serious. I'm fourteen."

"And you're on your own?"

"I was. Until you came along."

"How long have you been alone?" She asks, catching up besides me, looking down into my eyes.

"Almost eight years." I say, remembering the night my journeys through the vast lands began. I shiver, the memory of a cold wind cutting through my coat.

"So what happened to your family?" She asks with great interest.

"They were killed by a raider."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

"Yeah. So am I."

She doesn't say anything more for a long time.

June 17th, AC32, 3:21 PM

"So..." She says, breaking the several hour long silence that had encompassed our journey for quite a while,

"Where are we headed to?" She glances at me as I consider the question.

"Well. We're headed towards a colony called Green Barrow. It shouldn't take us too long to reach it." I answer, glancing at the sun, which is making it's way down the sky.

"We'll probably be there in three or four hours." She raises her eyebrows,

"How can you tell? All the land out here looks the same to me... Sand, sand, and more sand. Oh look, a pebble in the sand..." She sighs, shaking her head.

"It doesn't all look the same to me. Though the sand changes, there are many things that don't. Things that refuse to change."

"Like what?"

"The wind is pretty constant around here. And, if you look carefully, you can see ruins here and there from Colonies that were destroyed, or remnants of the war machines that once ruled this land, before the governments collapsed." She gives me a lasting look, one eyebrow raised high,

"You're totally lost, aren't you."

"Nope."

"Admit it."

"I know exactly where we are." Mostly. So long as I keep my head, we'll be fine.

We.

I'd not have thought I'd be using that word even a few days ago. It never had struck me before that I may actually find someone to travel with.

"Hey... Syl...?" Ni asks quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to you?" My hearts skips a beat as I remember that night once again.

"What do you mean?" I ask once I regain my composure,

"You always look so sad. But not like sadness in normal people, it's like looking at a broken machine that's missing a vital part. Like your joy was ripped out of you." Am I that easy to read? Am I such an open book that this girl can see me so clearly without knowing me at all?

"Ni, I should make something clear now." I say, "If at any time I wish to speak of my past, I will let you know, but as of this moment, I would very much like to bury it. I told you I'm a mercenary, and that is the truth. I kill and injure people to make a living, I am a murderer, and I cannot wash away the blood that stains me. That's all you need to know about me." She sighs, shaking her head,

"Except it's not..." She says softly, "You saved me even though you didn't need to. Even now, you're trying to help me by taking me to this town. You claim that you're a killer, but I've not seen you kill one person yet. Not even injure anyone." She looks over to me, "And so I will trust my eyes, and what I can see before me." I close my eyes, sighing. Of course, out of everyone in Breaker, I probably chose the most pure hearted one there, the one most likely to try and "help" me.

"Mirages deceive the eye because they appear to be water to a dehydrated person. I am no different. It's my name. In the language of my ancestors, Syl means 'Illusion' or 'Mirage'. Your eyes may just be your downfall, as they are liable to be liars."

"Are people any different? People lie more often than eyes."

"I suppose you are right in that regard." I say, yawning.

"It's hot!" She announces.

"Well what did you expect? A nice cool breeze in the middle of the day in the middle of the hottest area of the desert?"

She stutters,

"O-of course not! I've just never been out in the open like this!" No surprise there. She looks over to me, furrowing her thin brow as sweat trickles down the side of her face.

"How come you aren't baking?" She asks.

"The Raiga, from what I was taught, came from a planet much hotter than this. We can survive in hotter temperatures than humans, in fact, this is pretty cool for me."

"But you're mostly human." She points out.

"So you noticed? Most people can't see past the white hair and eyes to realize I have five fingers. But even though I am mostly human, my body is still ten degrees hotter than yours."

"Isn't that a lot?!"

"Yeah. It's a massive difference, and the same reason we don't get sick like humans. All the viruses and bacteria here are cooked inside our system. We're too hot for them to reproduce effectively."

"You sure do know a lot."

"Why wouldn't I? I do, after all, have to look after myself."

"I've heard Raiga don't breathe."

"It's not that we don't, it's that we breathe differently. Though I was born with human lungs and airways, my body can switch between absorbing oxygen, carbon dioxide, and methane, without any major side effects, though it's a lot more comfortable to breathe oxygen."

"Who taught you all this?"

"A very wise woman, who understood the importance of silence." I say. Geez, I hope we get there soon...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - "Ivory Tower"

June 17th, AC32, 6:02

Green Barrow is not like Breaker. It has a massive spring below it, one five times the size of the one that had sustained Breaker. And therefore, the population is proportional. That does not, however, mean that life in this place is anywhere near luxurious. The buildings are made from sand, with tin roofs sparsely protecting their denizens from the baking sun. Many are people scattered in the dirty, crowded streets, either begging or scouting for more... Productive means. As Ni and I enter the town, whispers trail through the crowded street, as people take note of my most obvious feature.

"White hair..." One scruffy man mutters as we pass,

"Raiga ain't welcome here!" He sneers. I look back quickly, catching his glare with one of my own. He looks away hesitantly, his face slackening for a moment as it strikes him that he may have spoken out of turn.

"Wandering Raiga child... Could it be...?" I hear, mutters and whispers they think me unable to hear.

"The Pale Horse...?"

"Nah. How could it be a kid? The Pale Horse is supposed to be a hell of a warrior. Young man, sure, but not some brat."

"Yeah... Guess you're right." Ni puts her hand on my shoulder, pulling me to the side of the street, and then into an empty alley way.

"Hey..!" She kneels down, a serious look on her face.

"If we don't hide your hair, someone with a chip on their shoulder about the Collapse is going to come after you." She says. Looking around the narrow street, she dashes over to a barrel, grabbing something that had been behind it. In a flash, my vision is almost totally blacked out.

"There! Just what we needed! A hat!" She pushes the excessively wide, sagging brim of the hat up so that she can look into my eyes, wrinkling her nose, she says,

"Sorry it's not a bit... Cleaner." I reach up, tilting it slightly on my head. One of my eyes peeks from behind the sagging brim,

"I can take care of myse-"

"Just wear it..." She says, an odd tone entering her voice,

"For my sake...?" I blink twice, unsure, but slowly, I resign.

"Yeah..." I say, nodding thoughtfully,

"I'll wear it." She sighs, closing her eyes.

"Thanks..." She breathes out, then takes a deep breath in,

"Well." She says as she stands. "We should get going..." She pauses, and laughs,

"I just realized, I've no idea why we're in this town. Yet here I'm trying to be responsible!"

"Responsible for what?" I ask as I slowly make my way towards the street.

"Like I said. I can take care of myself." And so, I take a single step into the street, and a crack pierces the air. A grunt of pain, and a few screams follow. Short, electric, and deadly. Most likely a Cyclops Mk.2 Energy Rifle, based on the duration of discharge, pitch and the feeling of all the hair on your body standing in end. A jagged bolt of dark green energy whips right in front of my face, arcing through a woman in a green scarf and khaki pants. Her entire midsection is vaporized. She drops a small roll of paper.

"Quick! Go get it!" A loud, deep voice shouts, a mountainous man wearing a red beanie steps into the street, holding a smoking Cyclops Mk.2 Energy Rifle. A much smaller man dashes forward through the crowd. He wears a red hanker chief around his face. I drop, grabbing the papers, and then dashing back into the alley. I snatch Ni's arm, dragging her away from the conflict. Her arm in one hand, the roll of papers, yellow with age, in the other.

"SYYYLL!" Ni exclaims as I pull her along, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Staying out of the public eye." I state, pulling her around a corner, and into a much more crowded, tighter alley. The men from before don't seem to be following us. And so I pull of to the side, hiding in plain sight. I open up the roll of papers, giving it a cursory glance.

The first paper is a series of short, vertical lines, each of varying thickness. The next, a blueprint to some a building. A foot note linked to a small, circular room says, "IVORY TOWER".

"Ivory tower...?" I mutter, then sigh, shaking my head. I fold the papers up and stuff them into one of the many inner pockets of my coat. Ni looks around warily,

"So what was that about? Why'd we run?"

"Cause I needed my exercise." I say, grabbing her wrist again, and pulling her through the crowd.

"Well. First things first, we need to find somewhere inconspicuous to stay."

"Why?"

"You get three guesses." I say, rolling my eyes, "No inn would be caught dead with a Raiga in one if their rooms."

"But the hat..."

"And what about it? It doesn't hide my eyes, nor does it hide all my hair. It's useful in a crowd, but on close inspection, it'd be easy for anyone with a brain and a moment of time to notice."

Ni looks down at her feet.

"Eyes up." I command, "Looking down like that is a sign of weakness. There are hawks watching." I nod to a small group of young men, all of whom wear bulky scarves around their faces, goggles, and radio headsets. All five of them are watching us through their mirrored goggles. A short, brown haired one taps the side of his head, making it clear he sees, and has marked, me. Like I said. He has a brain, and plenty of time. He motions to the rest of his group, and they begin to move in unison towards us. They disperse through the crowd, and before I can figure out what to do, I notice that they've surrounded us completely. The shorter one walks up, brushing off his dusty brown hair.

"Come with us." He says, "The streets are a dangerous place for kids your age. Especially if you're... Different. This isn't a threat. You can decline if you want, but I'm offering you a chance to survive the night." Says his muffled voice.

"I can take care of myself." I say.

"I'm sure. You're wearing a coat made by a company that was based in Eisenhower, a prominent Arms Town, as well as boots made by your own hands. Your clothes are stained by at least three different types of soil, so you've traveled far, and there's no shortage of blood spots of varying age in your coat, so you've fought and lived. The bandages on your arm aren't just old dressings either, my guess is that it's a symbol you picked up as either a Raider or Merc," the young man says, taking a deep breath, "If it were just you, Raiga, I'd not have approached you. But you also have someone inexperienced in surviving alone with you." His head swivels to look in her direction. "Finely crafted coat, made by professional hands. So you obviously came from a decent town, as well as soft, clean skin. However, you're scarred on the left of your face. It's an old scar, so I'd bet you got it as a child. Probably an accident of some sort, but you don't look like someone without training. No, I suspect you could diagnose a patient as well as a doctor. Something of that sort, I'd guess. But fighting? I would be surprised if you knew the difference between an automatic and semi-automatic rifle, let alone how to fire one." She takes a short, shallow breath.

"Syl...?" She says, glancing back down to me.

"Also." He looks back to me, "Syl, unlike you, I'm actually armed. Unlike you, if it came down to an actual fight, I would be able to protect her as well as myself. Wits alone can go only so far." He shrugs,

"Nice holster though." He comments.

One of the young man's men approaches,

"Crimson Hearts are searching the city for the papers. It seems Verdant Spring got them somewhere safe." He says quietly, "What should we do, Tuscan?"

The young man thinks, and gazes to the sky.

"We should remind them who runs this city." He says slowly,

"But we don't have the-"

"I know. Send an Arrow squadron through the streets. Have them take one Crimson down while they're out. One. No more, no less. Then they come back." The subordinate nods, and walks off quickly.

"So." He says, looking back to us, "What do you say? You wanna sleep in the cold tonight, or somewhere you'll at least be protected from sand storms and rogue gangs? Like I said. It's not safe out here, not for someone your age, race," he says, but then looks towards Ni, "Or sex." I close my eyes, dashing through all the simulations I can in the span of a few seconds. Unfortunately, whoever this guy is, he's right.

"Fine. Let's go." I say reluctantly.

"Good. Art." He says, pointing to a black haired youth wearing a white, heavy scarf, an eagle emblazoned on it's side in bright gold, and a pair of thick, golden mirrored goggles. "Show them to the Tower." The youth, Art, nods, grinning. "Right, boss." He nods to us, "Come on, you two! Day's a wastin'!" He exclaims as he turns and points at the rapidly descending sun.

I tug at Ni's coat and follow this kid, sighing. Ni follows, a perplexed look on her face. She looks back at the man called "Tuscan" and furrows her brow. He stands, looking at the blue sky, hands in his pockets. He purposefully moves his coat to the side, as though simply letting his hand rest on his hip. But it shows what's on his back, beneath his coat. A shotgun.

The crowd shifts, obscuring him momentarily. When Ni sees where he had been previously, he's not there anymore.

"Syl?" Ni ventures, "What's an Arms Town?" She asks,

Someone nearby drops something, shattering it.

"An Arms Town is a settlement devoted to either supporting Raiders, or to supporting Mercenaries like me. Some make weapons. Others make combat gear, like my coat."

"I didn't know places like that existed..." She says,

"But it makes sense I guess." I nod, looking up to her,

"Before you ask, yes. I used to live in Eisenhower. It was a conflicted city. It supported both Raiders and Mercs by outlawing violence INSIDE city limits. Eisenhower's mines are some of the most prosperous I've seen with my own eyes." Ni nods, seeming to understand what I'm saying.

"I still find it hard to believe that you're just fourteen years old." She says as we follow Tuscan's man.

"So where are you two coming from?" He asks, slowing slightly so he's at a more friendly distance.

"I don't see how that's your bussi-"

"Breaker." Ni interrupts.

"Isn't that a little colony a few dozen miles from here or so?"

"It was." I say.

"She's the only survivor of the raid that just wiped Breaker off the map." She looks back down to her feet. Talk about a bad habit...

"Listen, kid, don't go telling her story for her. She's got a brain and mouth, let her speak for herself." Art says, glaring at Syl, then with a honey-coated smile and sweet voice, he says,

"Well, sweetheart, what's your name?" He asks, looking into her eyes.

"Ni Anderson." She answers softly, looking up to him.

"So, Ni. Since you're here for the night, why don't you let me buy you a meal? You must be hungry after having traveled all the way from Breaker."

She looks surprised by the offer, but nods uncertainly,

"Sure. I'd appreciate it." I groan, shaking my head. Art gives me a waning smile, then looks over to a garage door, locked by a digital key pad. He punches in a six digit code, (128973) causing the door to shudder, and lift with exaggerated huffs and screeches. Someone should oil the damned thing. Inside is a wide, tall room, catwalks forming a second floor of sorts, while allowing the light from the huge, industrial fluorescent lights to leak through. The door closes behind us as we enter, the keypad beeping to note that it is locked again. The building is filled with dozens of light, hover-based craft called Arrows. They're comparable to motorcycles, but without wheels. Coming in every shade, every model, and some Arrows that are composed from several different models fused together. In the back left corner, a larger, silver ship lies dormant. It looks oddly unscathed, and it's hull shines with a light brilliance. The only entrance seems to be a cargo bay in the back, outlined in pulsating, blue lines. It's odd shape, and advanced design pique my curiosity.

"What is that ship?" I ask, stopping in my tracks. Art stops smiling, and he shakes his head.

"We don't know. We can't open it up, and scans don't breach it's hull. But one thing is pretty clear. It's not of human design." I narrow my eyes,

"So it's of Raiga design?"

"That's the best theory." He says, "Now come on. We should get you to the refugee area." He says, jerking his head as he increases his pace. I hasten to catch up with him. Ni glances to me as I get close. She mouths,

"You okay?" I don't bother answering. I'm always 'okay'.

Art leads us out from the hangar, and into a smaller, lower room. People are in this one, a shanty town built inside the low ceilinged room. People are buying, selling, and resting in their huts. But unlike outside, where the people are alert and tense, there's the bizarre... Happy feeling with these people. Despite their seemingly poor living conditions, there aren't many who look like they're not thankful for being where they are. An outlook I envy.

"You'll stay in one of the empty shanties tonight. K?"

Ni nods, but says nothing.

"Thanks for your hospitality." I say, glancing around. He pushes through the dense labyrinth to a tiny, rusted structure, lacking both a door, and two of the typical four walls.

"Homey." I mutter. This is just dandy. Surrounded by people I don't trust, and helpless if this place were to be assaulted. Just. Wonderful. If there is a God to pray to, then I'd most certainly do just that. But I am not a pious guy, so I suppose that's not actually an option. I guess it's time to start planning...

Art leaves us with simple instructions.

"Don't cause problems." He says simply before walking off. Yeah. Like that'll happen. I wait for Ni to lie down and fall asleep before sneaking off. That ship, something about it is bugging me. I need a closer look. With swift steps, I dash through the shanty town within the building to the garage. A pair of people are working on an Arrow near the ship. I sneak to a stack of crates, and wait. And wait. AND WAIT...

Finally, they finish their work and head outside, into the streets. The creaky door closes behind them, and I sprint to the ship. I slow as I reach it, taking my hat off and holding it at my side as I take a closer inspection. It surface is smooth as glass, not a single seam or crack. The cargo bay in the back is, in all reality, simply an outline in those blue lines. There doesn't seem to be a single scratch or any mind of difference in it's surface at all. And then I spot it.

A small, perfectly vertical line, thin as paper and located a few feet right of the outline. It's not very big at all, about the same length as my pointer finger. And then the door explodes.

Perfect timing as always.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four - "Wandergaze"

June 17th, AC 32, 7:32 PM

Explosion: The rapid and violent destruction or shattering of something.

I find that to be the only way to describe what happened to the garage door. Breaking to pieces, sending molten shrapnel and the blast itself at me. It was not a small shockwave, it sent me sprawling onto the cement, a hot strip of steel slicing my cheek. Even as I arc through the air, time as slow as molasses, I feel the blood being drawn from me. And then, excuse my term, shit hit the fan.

I regain my recognition of time's flow, rolling uncontrollably as I hit pavement. Bolts of energy dart out from the cloud caused by the blast. Short, electric, and deadly. But luckily, they can see through the dust about as well as I can. Not at all. I dash to one of the nearest Arrows, turning it on, holding the break, and then using one of my bandages to tie the throttle on full blast. I release the break, and therefore the rest of the bike. It rockets towards the door, clipping the side as it flies mostly noiselessly into whoever is attacking. I hear an explosion on the other side of the cloud. I look around frantically, anything that could serve as a weapon would help right now. Another series of shots from energy rifles assail the garage, but this time, they're more accurate. I'm forced to hit the deck, the cool cement quickly rising in temperature, as bolts of energy fly directly over my head. My hand falls on something very simple. An energy core, comparable to a D Battery in size, but much, much more potent. I grin, and dash to a tool kit nearby as soon as the fire lessens. The cloud clears just as I grab a screwdriver. I pry off the lid to the core, and jab the screwdriver into it mercilessly. The core begins to buzz in my left hand. I raise my right arm high.

"Clear!" A voice calls from the door.

"It's just some kid!"

"You wish!" I slam my fist down onto the screwdriver's handle. With a soft crunch, the screwdriver punctures the core. It begins to shake. I rear back, and throw the core.

Energy Cores are our version of batteries. They don't have a very applicable purpose as a weapon. Except if you puncture them, causing a seal in the reaction chamber to release, and for the core to dispel all of it's available energy at once. The result is a minor explosion, but a loud bang, and a painful, stunning shock. As well as a beautiful, shining blue, streamer effect.

Streams of electricity arc between a few men as they walk into the garage, and right into range of my hand made grenade. With pained cries, all but one fall to the ground, shaking. Electricity arcing over his clothes, he raises his pistol, a revolver.

And then he falls. However, they are not the last of the assailants.

A mountainous, brutish man shoulders his way into the garage, holding a light assault rifle. He grins, pushing his red tinted sunglasses up his nose.

He shoulders his rifle, taking aim without question. I narrow my eyes, and then bolting into action. I reach for my empty holster, causing him to shift his gaze, and therefore his aim, however slightly, and then roll in the opposite direction. A trio of quick cracks pierces the air, and the bullets that caused them slap the concrete where I had been. I take cover behind an older Arrow, snatching up a large, orange and black wrench.

"Better than nothing!" I mutter. I twist, jumping into the air while spinning, letting the weight of the wrench carry it into a speedy arc for the man's forehead. He sidesteps, avoiding the simple throw. He grins. "What? No gun, kid?" He asks as a couple more men, one with a red scarf, another with a red cap, walk in with rifles. Three, precise, deep cracks pierce the atmosphere. Not a rifle. A hand cannon. The three men fall, blood spreading from their chests as they choke on their own blood.

Tuscan stands quietly, at the door that leads to he indoor slum. He holds his pistol, it's barrel smoking. He puts the gun away.

"You broke one of my Arrows." He says, looking down to me, still crouching behind the old Arrow. I'm without words as his hidden gaze ensnares me.

"Good work." He looks up at the ceiling.

"Art. You can come down now. Looks like you weren't needed after all." Art drops down from the high rafters, landing on the catwalk above, then dropping down from there. He has a long, scoped marksman rifle in his hands. He looks comfortable with it, but it's clear he doesn't get to use it often. Though well maintained, it's rusted, and old. It's probably an heirloom.

I walk past Tuscan,

"You should clean this place up. It's a wreck." I say.

"I know. I've been thinking about hiring a staff to take care of things like this on a regular basis." He turns to look me in the eyes.

"But good staff is just so hard to find."

"You should keep looking." I say as I head back to Ni. I don't do long term employment.

Tuscan turns and looks at Art as I leave.

"Well?" He asks.

"Why's the garage such a mess?" I hear Art's cry of despair as I continue on. A smile touches the corner of my lips. Nothing makes me happier than proving people wrong.

June 17th, AC32, 7:49 PM

"Still asleep." I whisper to myself in amazement once I'm back. She's snoring, lying flat on her face. I close my eyes and let myself smile, and chuckle. I just got in a firefight with no gun, almost died, and Ni was taking a nap. I knew I'd like this girl.

I remove my smile, opening my eyes, but not easily. It's definitely time to get some rest. I lie down, keeping a good space between myself and the girl, close my eyes, and fall asleep.

June 18th, AC32, 6:19 AM

I slowly open my eyes, looking at Ni's face, only inches away. Her arm is thrown over my shoulder, and she's definitely asleep. It takes me exactly 4.07 seconds to realize we slept so close that my right shoulder is touching her left. I practically jump out of my skin.

I leap up, falling backwards as I do so. I feel my face redden, as blood rushes to the surface of my skin, and she...

Is still asleep. Can nothing wake this girl? Her even, calm breaths calm me, as I regain my composure. I allow myself a brief smile, then sit up, slowing my breathing. What a time I've been having the last few days... Joining up with this girl, who I know nothing about, and last night's firefight. I've been busy. If this doesn't earn me something, nothing will.

But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if this kept up. It's not boring, at least. So maybe this isn't so bad. So maybe this isn't so bad. Having a life. Do I deserve it? To live?

I lie back down, closing my eyes. A sleepy, relaxed hand grips my shoulder, I drift off to sleep, a hand on my shoulder and a breath whispering in my ear. I've never slept better.

June 18th, AC32, 8:32 AM

Ni stirs, nudging me as she sits up. Yawning, she sits up. I sit up a few moments later, as she stands. She stretches, yawning again. I yawn in return.

"Morning, Syl..." She says lethargically.

"Hey." I mutter, "Sleep well?" She nods, the tiredness seems to edit her eyes as she sniffs the air.

"Hey, Syl...?"

"Yeah?" I ask, starting to panic at this new question. I have a very bad feeling about this.

"I need a new pair of clothes..."

"Eh? Why?" I ask, not understanding. She closes her eyes,

"Listen, you're just a kid so you don't get it, but as a girl, I NEED a clean change of clothes." She says, lightly blushing.

"Oh. Okay." Jeez, I thought it had been something dangerous. I take out a few dozen Cogs, the copper coin that is the widest used currency of Atlantia,

"24 should do, right?"

"Yeah."

I stand and hand her the coinage.

"Have fun." I say, lying back down and putting my hat on over my face to block the light. She kicks me,

"Hey, clueless! I don't know where anything is! You have to come with me!" Oh... Dear God...

"No!" I say, bolting up.

"What do you mean, 'no'?!" She cries,

"I mean, there's no way you're gonna get me to come with you!" I protest.

June 18th, AC32, 11:47 AM.

I sit in the reddish dust outside a general store, flipping my Mercenary Badge (that blue coin I have to prove that I'm a Merc), seeing whether it'll land on the crucifix and crossed blade or the skull on the other side. So far I've gotten 9 skulls and 2 crucifixes and blades.

"Okay, puppy!" Ni chirps as she exits, carrying a backpack and wearing a new set of clothes. A ragged, brown and grey cloak, a pair of cargo pants, and a light short sleeved shirt, and lastly, a heavy, old combat knife, slung around her hip. I had insisted on the last bit.

"Puppy?" I ask miserably, standing as I shove the coin back into my pocket.

"It's what you look like, sitting there with your dejected expressions and messy hair." She says.

"Greeaaat, I went from being feared Merc to dejected Puppy in what, two days?" I sigh, shaking my head,

"How I have let myself go." I tap my coin pouch inside one of my many coat pockets. It's almost empty. Her clothes ended up costing twice as much as what I had first estimated. At least twice. I only have 13 Cogs left. Barely enough for two full meals. I need work, and soon. But with Ni here... I've no idea how to work this out.

"We're almost out, aren't you?" Ni asks seriously,

"Of money, I mean."

"Yep. I'm about dry." I admit, shrugging.

"I'll need to take a job. But I can't be looking after you while doing Mercenary work. I don't kno-"

"Take me with you. I can shoot a gun just as well as any man, I too, can take care of myself." Raising my eyebrows, I consider what she's said. Maybe if it were an easy job...

"Okay." I decide, "Just do as I say." With no more to add, I turn on my heel and walk towards the less... Legitimate side of town.

'Slum' wouldn't be the right word to describe the bad parts of Green Barrow. It would be better to call it 'Pandemonium.' Corpses like the street, the smell of their rotting flesh seeping into every piece of stone and everyone who's lived there for any amount of time. The homes and stands are made from cloth, and rusted metal poles, which look like they could collapse at any moment. The street is muddy from the blood that had run into it.

I walk through quickly, keeping a firm grasp on Ni's arm.

"Don't look around!" I hiss,

"Act as though you know where you're going!" I spot the bounty stand. I walk up to it, using my free hand to pull out my Mercenary Badge. I place the coin on the table, and say,

"What's open?" A woman walks out from behind a curtain, holding a single sheet of paper.

"This all I have left, kid." She says gruffly, "Take it of leave it." I take a cursory glance at the sheet.

"WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE!" The poster shows a picture of a man wearing dark goggles, and a thick scarf covering his face. The only thing it says is one word.

"Tuscan" I turn around, walking back the way we came. I drag Ni along.

"We're not gonna...?"

"No, there are no jobs there that I can take."

"Then what do we do?" She asks, worry evident in her voice.

"Take a job that I can do."

"But I thought that they don't have anything you can do."

"They don't. Someone else does, though I'll admit I'd not wanted to take his offer."

"Who?"

"Tuscan."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five - "Welcome to Silver Horizon"

June 18th, AC32, 3:00 PM

Chairs are supposed to be a structure for us to relax and rest in. Unfortunately, that's not the case when it comes to the chair in Tuscan's office. It's hard, straight backed, and painful as hell to sit in. I swear, the thing's gonna give me chronic back pain. Across a wide, messy desk, it's front chipped from many impacts, sits the man himself, "Tuscan".

His cyclops-gaze burrows a hole in my face, but I simply return my own stare. He seems to never take off his goggles and scarf. It's annoying me.

"Syl Wandergaze, AKA the Pale Horse." He drops a thick, Manila folder onto his desk, files and photos spilling out. Files and pictures of me.

"You have quite the reputation." He pulls out a sheet of paper, messy handwritten lines of poetry written on it.

"Behold a pale horse,

For on him rides death,

And he who follows,

In his path is Hell."

I fold my arms as I quote the passage, kicking my legs up onto his desk and staring back at him. He sets the paper down slowly.

"Let's end this show of knowledge and power. We're on even ground here and you know it, Tuscan." He tilts his head,

"Then what is my name, Pale Horse?"

I speak the name.

"So we are, than I suppose I should cut to the chase. I need a special ops unit that I can rely on to take care of issues normal people wouldn't be able to handle. Astra, would you please come in now?" A girl with deeply dark, purple hair walks in. She wears a mischievous grin, wearing not the typical scarf and goggles of this gang, but instead a silver, nylon suit, beneath light combat gear, and a pair of thick sunglasses. A pale, jagged scar runs across her jugular. However, the only weapon she's carrying is a fairly large, and old, knife.

"Sup, pops?" She asks, pulling her black gloves on tighter. Her eyes dash over me,

"He seems neat." She says. "What d'ya say, kiddo? Wanna go grab dinner after we're done here?"

"Astra, dear." Tuscan begins to organize his desk.

"You can flirt later. Besides, aren't you always on your brother's case for doing what you just did?"

"Eh, it's just fun to see his reaction. The way he starts protesting and sho-"

"Astra."

"Right, sorry pops." She bounces on the balls of her feet, swinging her arms back and forth, yet her gaze never once leaves me.

"So what does this special ops unit have to do with me?" I return Astra's gaze.

"Well." She begins, "Right now, there's no one in Silver Horizon qualified to run that kind of mission, except me, but now that you're here, it'd be wasteful to just throw you on an Arrow and send you off to Deliver."

Reaching to scratch dried dirt and sand off of my boot, I nod,

"So you want me to help you out by joining this team of yours. How much are you willing to pay?"

"As much as you need." Tuscan answers simply, brushing the dirt off of his desk, then he plants his hand beneath it, and flips the whole desk. I fall backwards, landing on my back.

"You are my employee, and will therefore respect me as your employer. I do not deal with disrespect." Tuscan pulls out a shotgun from beneath his cloak-like coat, cocking the weapon, he sets it's barrel against my chest.

"Either deny my offer and leave, or stay, show me some respect, and do the job I'm offering you."

I laugh.

"Sure. I've got no other way to make money now, so I'll join up with you. I do have a dependant now, after all." Tuscan puts the shotgun away, pulling the desk back up onto it's legs and brushing it's surface off. The floor is carpeted with blank sheets of paper. I grin, standing slowly as Astra clips her nails with her knife.

"But the moment I decide it's better for Ni and myself to leave than to stay, we're gone."

"I'd expect no less from you than for you to actually use that brain of yours." Tuscan taps his head, just like when we first met.

"It's why I approached you, after all, because I could see you were using it."

"So. Where should I start?"

He grabs a map of the city, and then drops it into my lap, pointing at one building.

"With the factory."

"Factory? What's it for?"

"Well, it's currently the HQ of Crimson Heart, one of the competing gangs here in town, but we need it to make bigger hovercraft. Understand your job?"

"Evict them?"

"By any means necessary." Astra finishes with her nails, looking up from them to me,

"Then let's begin."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six- "War Paint"

June 20th, AC32, 4:32 AM

It's been a long time since I was involved in something intense like this. Sure, I'd take the odd job here and there to get some quick cash, but I hadn't been involved in such a well planned raid like what Astra, Emissary, Tuscan, Art, and I just finished planning. Though including the girl called called Emissary is a bit generous.

Her hood shrouding her face, she had stood without saying a word at our planning table, simply cleaning her pistol. The only time she could have even been considered to have participated is when she pointed at the map of the factory, tapping a point in it's wall that had been weakened by an arrow that had crashed there long ago. (Just so you know for sure, I'm not allowed to put any of the details of our plan on file yet.)

As I head back to the shack Ni and I had come to call home, Astra stops me.

"Oi, Horse, what do you plan to do for a weapon?"

"Call me Syl, or Wandergaze." I cross my arms, stopping, "I'll figure something out."

"A crowbar's not gonna cut it, kid. You need a gun." Sweat trickles down the side of my face,

"No. I don't. You're not bringing one, so why do I need to?"

"You wanna die?" She flips out her knife,

"I don't use guns because I've trained with this for years. You haven't done that. I can tell." She sheathes the bright blade, and nods,

"Now, c'mon kid. You need a weapon."

"Then give me something other than a gun."

"Why? Guns are-"

"Unreliable. They jam, they run out of ammunition, they are loud and obnoxious. And impractical for someone of my size." She narrows her eyes.

"Then what will you use?" Her knife comes out of it's scabbard again, spinning in her hand.

"Like I said..." I start walking away, wanting only to sit down and close my eyes, and listen to Ni's loud, annoying breathing.

"I'll figure something out." Astra doesn't follow, simply watches me go.

"Syl." She says with less of her previous annoyance,

"Don't let yourself die."

"Are you stupid, Astra?"

"What?! What did you call m-"

"Because that was a stupid thing to say. I'm not dying here. I'm not just me now."

I collapse against the wall of our shanty, but Ni isn't here now. She's probably going to go get something or another with some of Tuscan's men, she had talked about picking something up.

I hope she gets back soon.

A weapon. I really do need something. But a gun isn't an option. A knife won't work for someone like me either. If I don't find something to defend myself with, I WILL die. That's not even in question. After an hour of thinking, and still coming up blank, I take a walk in frustration. After probably ten minutes of aimless walking, I find myself in the hangar, surrounded by Arrows, and the odd ship.

I walk over to the ship's back again, looking over the cargo door. I find the paper thin crease in it once more. It's probably about as thick as that heirloom I picked up a while ago, the one from the mine.

Pulling it from my pocket, I run my finger across it's edge.

"Now way..."

I push the piece of metal into the slot, and with an electric buzz, the cargo door simply vanishes. What used to be a person sits against the inner wall, devoured by decay. The poisonous fumes leak from the door, making me wrinkle my nose. The body is little more than a smelly pile of fertilizer now, but there is one thing still intact inside the ship. A small, metal armband, much like a bracer. It's dingy, rusted surface makes a good impression on me. Without much thought, I grab it, slipping it off the dead man's arm, and then placing it over the bandages on mine. I search the rest of the ship, but nothing of value remains that I could take, so I go.

As I exit, the door shuts behind me, materializing from nothingness. I narrow my eyes, but decide it's best for me to simply leave it be. I walk away with no solution to my problem. I still need a weapon.

June 19th, AC32, 5:23 PM,

As my feet carry me into the shanty, Ni looks over her shoulder, staring into my eyes,

"Good. You're back." I adjust my hat,

"Where were you?"

"Thanks for the lovely, 'Welcome home, Ni' . I got some supplies you'll need for the raid, Tuscan said to pick them up." She hands me a bottle of pills.

"He said they were for you, but you're not sick, are you?" I set the bottle of anticoagulants down, shaking my head,

"Not at all. I'm just as I should be."

That bastard knows too much for his own good. I don't need medicine, but he needed to make a point.

"I wonder why he had me get those." She looks down on me, narrowing her eyes.

"Syl, I was raised by a doctor. Why did Tuscan have me get you heart medication?"

"I don't see why I should answer that. It would only distract and worry you. There's no point in doing something that will only cause trouble."

She closes her eyes, sighing.

"You're a dick. You know that? I just want to help you, but to do that I actually need to see a little of what you're hiding."

"It's called 'hidden' for good reason. I will not share something as pointless as this." My foot meets the bottle, sending the pills up into the air.

"Not good enough!"

"Deal with it." I sit down, sighing and closing my eyes. She huffs, calling me some words I'd never heard before. I'll have to remember them for later. Ni storms away, bumping into Art as she goes.

"Woah!" He stumbles out of her path,

"Syl, what the hell was that about?!" He says, looking legitimately worried.

"Art, do me a favor, and forget about it." I say, picking up the bottle of pills, and placing them in my coat pocket. I take one before closing my eyes and falling asleep.

June 20th, 2:12 AM, AC 32, 2:03 AM

"Syl. Time to go." Tuscan says softly, standing at the edge of the shanty. I crack one eye open, adjusting to being awake. I stand slowly, taking my time. Ni lies in the dust by my feet, still asleep. I only nod, and then follow the faceless man through the indoor slums. I pull my hat down further onto my head.

Astra, Art, and the girl who simply calls herself Emissary, all stand in the hangar, waiting patiently. Art slings his rail-like rifle over his shoulder,

"We ready, boss?" Tuscan needed only nod. Astra opens the door, Emissary walking out nonchalantly, followed by Art, who draws his scarf up around his face, bringing his goggles down over his eyes.

"Syl. Time for you to cover your face." Astra brings the elastic fabric of her suit up, meant to cover not just her neck but the lower half of her body, it conforms easily to the contours of her face.

I bring out a roll of gauze, wrapping it around the lower half of my face. As I walk out, Tuscan falls in besides me. I hand him the pills. "Thanks, but I've got better treatment than those."

"I know." He takes the bottle without a word, placing them in his pocket. I narrow my eyes, but turn my head back to face front. Art and Astra walk side by side, Emissary far ahead. Just as planned. She waves back at us once, then vanishes into an alley. Her signal to stop.

"Who is she, anyway?" I ask Tuscan while we're stopped.

"Why do you think she wears a hood, and covers her face?"

"That's not an answer."

"It is if you look at it in the right light." Tuscan crosses his arms, widening his stance.

"I'm surprised you decided to take my offer." The man with the hidden face says.

"Why? It's like you said. It's not just me anymore." He only nods.

Emissary reappears, giving a clear thumbs up. I nod to myself, and walk forward, head down and hands in my pockets. Humming to myself, I grip the screwdriver in my pocket tightly. It's my turn.

My hat covers my hair.

My eyes are covered by shadows and darkness.

My hands by my coat.

My frantic heart, by layers of flesh and bone.

Even the greatest of gamblers should hide their eyes. And so that's what I do.

A lone guard stands on the outside of the mammoth sized factory, sitting on a soap box. A red beanie is pulled down low around his scalp. I'm met with a cynical glare, and he simply says,

"Get lost, kid."

I don't say anything, simply continuing to walk forward.

"Oi, you deaf or summin'?" He growls, pulling out a large knife.

"I said, beat it." Her reaches out knocking my hat off. He catches sight of my hair. Too late for him. I suddenly step forward with aggression, bringing out the dull screwdriver and slamming it's handle into his forehead. With a dull thud and crack, he falls over. I pick up my hat, dust it off, and don it once more. It was a gift from Ni, after all.

With purpose, I move to a power transformer beside the security door. Prying it open with the screw driver, I drop it to my side, tearing out a single wire. The few lights that had once come from within the dark factory dim, then die.

"Checkmate!" I scoop up the man's knife, as well as it's scabbard, sheathing the blade and placing the weapon firmly in my coat. Astra darkens the alley for a short time, blacking out the moon as she dives through a second story window. The door beside me blows open, a man wearing a red tank top bursting outwards, rifle in hand. Thunder booms, and a hole the size of my head is ripped through his upper chest. He collapses without a word. Tuscan steps over the body, bringing his own weapon out, pointing it in what seems like a random direction, not even looking, and pulling the heavy trigger. With a blast of sound, bird shot peppers a second story catwalk, causing droplets of crimson blood to rain from it's grate. I dash in. "Remember your job, Syl." Tuscan says simply.

Yeah. Easy for you to say.

He puts the shotgun away, pulling a heavy revolver from a holster on his leg. He checks to make sure it's loaded as I delve deep into the labyrinth of broken machines and twisted maintenance halls. I catch a glimpse of a blue-ish white glow. Talk about a dead give away. I draw the knife, following the light.

I find myself in a small room, but one filled with perhaps one of the rarest of all commodities. Working computers. Four, to be exact.

I open the command script screen, quickly typing system commands. Then I remember. The power is supposed to be off. Why are the computers not off, when the power should be off?

/:Shutdown

I order, and the system obliges, the screens going dark. A cold voice laughs.

"Too late for that, Pale Horse. Like moths to a flame, you've destroyed yourselves tonight."

I whip around, the voice shaking my bones themselves.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7- "The Light"

June 20th, AC32, 5:27 AM

A short, wide, strongly built man stands in the doorway, blocking it entirely. He wears a fine, tailored suit, it's red tie contrasted with the pure white of the rest of the suit. His dark, bald head is shadowed, but it's shape is familiar enough. An ornate, gilded revolver rests casually in his right, rough hand, which professionally aims it at my head.

"I was wondering when we'd meet again, child." He pulls back the hammer, surely squinting with his left eye, as he always did when aiming.

I throw my knife, turning as I send it flying at his hand. The revolver bucks, a flash igniting the room in a yellow light for just a moment before it returns to shadow. The wall beside my head shatters, a large hole bored into it's flat surface. Dust explodes out from it. My knife hits the wall opposite me, it's blade sinking into the dry wall.

He adjusts. He pulls the hammer back once more. I raise my bandaged arm to cover my face, there's nowhere to dodge this time. I press against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. The smell of burnt gunpowder fills the air once more, as he squeezes the trigger. Light blinds my shut eyes. A bright, green light. Heat radiates from my raised arm. My coat's arm hangs in tatters, slowly burning away. From the center piece of the metal bracer from the ship, a green light pulses outwards, in a slowly diminishing circle.

HE, the man in the suit, is gone. Gone without a trace. The light vanishes, letting a crushed, smoking lead pellet fall to the floor with a soft ping. I look at the bracer I'd taken for a fashion statement at best, eyes wide in surprise. I'll have to look at it later. Now is not the time.

I stand, quickly moving out of the room and retrieving my knife. I replace it into it's sheath, pulling my floppy hat further down on my head.

Gunfire echoes through the labyrinth of factory machines.

A hand grips my shoulder. Reacting quickly, I draw my knife and turn, stopped by another hand. I find myself staring into the girl named 'Emissary's emerald eyes. She adjusts her red hood, simply 'shh'ing me. Being the first time I have a close look at her, I take the opportunity to inspect her. She wears a baggy pair of cargo pants, tightly bound around her waist by a cloth belt. She wears a tight fitting shirt, made from a synthetic fabric of some kind, and her cloak.

Emissary motions forward, moving silently through the halls, taking care in where she steps and even where her shadow falls. Where'd she learn to move like that?

I follow in her steps, carefully mimicking her movement. She holds her hand up, signaling for me to stop. She crouches down, pulling a knife from her shoe.

Echoing footsteps reach my ear, bouncing off of the walls around me. As a man wearing a red coat turns a corner ahead of us, I draw my knife. He raises his gun. Emissary swings her arm. The tiny handle of the knife sprouts from his chest. With a soft cry, he hits the dusty floor.

Two more men round the corner, Emissary reaches for her pocket. Too slow.

I dash forward, leading with my shoulder. Too stunned to react, the men stumble hesitate. Making up his mind, the one on the left raises his shotgun. Him first.

I drive my shoulder into his stomach, letting inertia carry my legs forward and down. I slide between his legs, ending behind him, on my knees. I throw my knife into his back. Standing and pushing up with my left foot, I bring my right arm up, collecting the knife in the start of my swing and slashing outwards with the latter half of it. The man dodges, stepping backwards. He fumbles with his rifle.

Too bad for him. I take another step forward, bringing myself extremely close to him, allowing me to easily knee him between his legs. He doubles over in pain. I drive the knife into his back, through his heart. I withdraw my knife, wiping it on my pants and waiting for Emissary.

She gives me a simple nod as she walks past me, over the corpses, through the pools of warm blood. I sheathe the blade.

"We need to finish our job." She says, so softly that I barely heard her,

"The computer systems, as suspected, are compromised, we should assume that they have acce-" the lights above us burst to life, turning the maze of machines and parts into one large, cluttered room. Tuscan meets my urgent gaze. Drawing a large revolver, and throwing his shotgun over his back, he takes aim at the nearest door.

The room isn't huge. It's actually fairly small, and there are only two entrances and exits into the first of many machine storage rooms. We came through one. They'll come from the other. I drop to my knees as the door bursts open. A thunderous, tremendous, ground shaking blast assaults my ears. The windows shake. A hole the size of my head is blown through one of the concrete walls as the door is shoved open. Just as a guard shoves his way through, a hole with at least a six inch diameter opens up in his chest. The person behind him is hailed on by bloody shrapnel, sending them both down and into the dust. Tuscan takes a single shot, sending a third, and the final, man to his death.

"Well that was fast." He remarks. Raising a radio to his scarfed face, he says,

"Thank you, Art, good shot as always."

"You guys should get out of there." Says a static-covered voice,

"I've got eyes on at least a dozen more guards moving to surround the room you guys are in."

Tuscan shakes his head, lifting a small radio handset to his masked face,

"Can't. We have to finish the job."

"Well you all can't stay there. If you're all still there, they'll find you, and then blow you to kingdom come."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Art." Tuscan growls,

"Looks like we don't have an option. We have to get out. They were expecting us."

"Tuscan, wait." I say softly, pausing in my own thoughts.

"What's this 'Ivory Tower' we were supposed to infiltrate?"

"A developement lab run by an advanced AI. If we can shut it down, this factory can't produce weapons for Crimson Heart."

"And that was our mission from the start?"

"Yes."

"Remember to tell me about all these stupid gangs when I get back, OK?"

"When you get back...?" Astra turns to face me, but I'm already headed back to the computer room, walking at a brisk, but relaxed, pace.

"Don't bother." I hear Tuscan say,

"He's made up his mind. Let's go. We'll see him in a few hours."

I squeeze my eyes shut, no time for emotion. I must focus.

First- They know I'm here. I was called out by name, by someone I know.

Second- They know, for now at least, where I am.

Third- The power is on.

Fourth- The bracer-armband-thing I retrieved from the mysterious ship appears to have defensive properties.

Fifth- I've got a big knife.

Sixth- I've got a screwdriver.

Seventh- I'm in a big, old factory filled with rusty, hazardous, complex machines. In other words, for me: Heaven. For them: Hell.


End file.
